The Sarpeidon Chronicles 1: The End of Yesterday
by LoriP
Summary: From Zor Khan's destruction of Zarabeth's family through a time when Spock discovers a method to rescue her. An All Our Yesterdays continuation. COMPLETE 3 chaps
1. Fire & Ice

Fire & Ice  
  
The last hours of night had given way to the first pale shards of morning, but the spacious rooms of the palace still vibrated with music and movement. The feast had ended hours before, and the huge barrels of specially prepared inebriants had almost all run dry, but the majority of the revelers were in no mood to retire. Twin lines of dancers, men on one side and women on the other, spanned the entire length of the ballroom. Vibrant colors flashed and glowed as the most prominent citizens in the city displayed their finery for their new sovereign.  
  
Tilting his goblet in his hand, Zor Khan stirred its diminished contents with a slight movement of his wrist. Much as he'd looked forward to his inaugural ball, he now found himself bored with the endless procession of sycophants and toadies. Their previous ruler had been weak, overly scrupulous. Wresting power from him had been almost too easy, a contest staged between a man and an infant. He only hoped that ruling this colony of sheep would prove more of a challenge. He knew himself well enough to know that boredom often led to caprice. He supposed it was a mixed blessing that he had reached a position from which he could demand anything he wanted at any time. In any case, he planned to enjoy it.  
  
From his place on the dias, he surveyed the crowd once more, this time focusing on the women who swayed and gamboled for his amusement. A few even turned to him and offered coy little smiles as they moved from one row to the next and back again. Rather to his own surprise, Zor Khan found that the harder they tried to please him, the less interested in them he became. Too much perfection, he decided, was not necessarily a good thing.  
  
He was about to ask his aide to begin ushering the guests out of the palace when he spotted a woman he had not noticed before. Settling back in his seat with renewed interest, he watched her weave among the throng of other dancers with the kind of unstudied elegance that, in Zor Khan's opinion, came only with the right combination of breeding and education. Unlike the others, she seemed entirely unconscious of her effect on him. Zor Khan found that refreshing.  
  
And he found her intoxicating.  
  
The aide he summoned came quickly, setting down his goblet and hurrying over the moment Zor Khan crooked a finger.   
  
"That female. I want you to discover who she is." Eyes narrowed, he watched her move into the center of the floor, touch palms with a tall blond man, turn, and step back in line with the other women. Thoughtfully he stroked the long point of his freshly barbered beard. "And the man dancing with her. Inquire after both of them at once."  
  
"No need, my lord. I am already acquainted with them. That is the Lady Zarabeth and her brother, Argus."   
  
Zor Khan smiled. "That simplifies things considerably."  
  
The aide's face grew pinched. "I fear not, my lord. They are the children of the House of Jaryd, known to be loyal to the coward so recently-and so rightfully-deposed. Rumors hold that their father has spoken against your lordship's rule."  
  
"Indeed? Yet Jaryd sees no harm in entertaining himself and his family at my expense. In that case, perhaps he would consider his daughter a fair exchange for my hospitality."  
  
Swallowing, the aide shook his head. "I fear not, my lord. Since the death of his wife, Jaryd's possessiveness of his children is well known. He welcomes no one's interference with his daughter."  
  
"In that case, I shall take great pleasure in changing his mind." Zor Khan's eyes turned cold even as his heart began to burn with lust.  
  
"It is not only Jaryd's insolence my lord must contend with. Many say the lady places great store in her own will. She is considered quite headstrong for a woman of her age."  
  
"Nonsense. The will of one's sovereign must take precedence over that of some overindulged chit. Still, I am not a man to force my attentions on any woman-or my views upon any citizen of my realm." With a single flick of his wrist, Zor Khan flung his empty goblet sideways, so that it shattered on the dark stone floor. He stared, gratified, at the particles that gleamed there like stars in a distant night sky. "The female, and her father, shall be offered a fair choice. At that point they they will do as they see fit...and I shall do likewise."  
  
Just then, by chance, he looked up and caught her eyes across the room. He saw them harden just before she turned away. Her brother followed suit, his mouth drawn in a tight, narrow line. Abruptly the two of them turned and left the dance.  
  
"Arrogant pup," Zor Khan murmured.  
  
Beside him, his aide began to smile. "It would not be unseemly for so powerful a ruler as your lordship to impress upon his subjects the value of humility."  
  
Humility. Zor Khan savored that prospect. By the time he finished with the House of Jaryd, she would beg to crawl into his bed. That...or she would beg for her life. And when her relatives came forward to defend her, he would rid himself of an entire cache of dangerous enemies. Most pleasant.  
  
.......  
  
In the end, she did not beg. Proud, so proud, every last one of them, and she held out the longest. Even worse, by the time he sent her away into the ice, other citizens-more of them than he could possibly monitor, or control-began to turn against him. In every corner of the city, he suspected, pockets of resistance were deepening. Even Atoz, the young apprentice librarian, turned away with a sickly expression while she was prepared and then thrust through the portal to her living damnation. Atoz was weak, Zor Khan realized, but in one sense his timidity saved him. A man who dared to question his orders more directly could not have been allowed to live.  
  
Still, Zor Khan was not prepared to admit defeat. Many nights, when he wished to ease his mind, he entered the library and forced Atoz to put the disc in place. Then he would sit for hours, watching the storms, the snow, the misery he had resigned her to. Occasionally he caught a glimpse of her solitary figure, meandering among the drifts, hopeless and struggling. Fire and ice, he mused as he watched. Yet he knew the wind on her face was no colder than that blowing through his own heart.  
  
One night, he peered intently into the tiny viewscreen as she made her way along the edge of a deep ravine. The deadly winds surged around her like a pair of enormous, flapping wings while a primeval blizzard swirled in huge, blinding, withering gusts.  
  
One moment, she was there. In the next, a solid sheet of snow momentarily obscured his vision. When it passed, every trace of her was gone.  
  
"Is she finally dead?" he whispered, bending close to the table, peering down into the disc as if the blurring image there held his answer. All he could see was snow. Frustrated, he sat up and looked around for the youthful librarian who had stood beside him only moments before. "Atoz! I require your assistance at once! Where are you? I did not give you permission to leave this place!"  
  
Zor Khan was startled to feel an arm slide around his neck. "I have not left you, my lord," came a quiet voice.   
  
Surprise quickly turned to outrage. "You impudent peasant! How dare you lay your common hands on your sovereign?"  
  
The final syllable left his lips just as the icy steel descended on his throat. 


	2. Anamnesis

ANAMNESIS  
  
2  
  
Even now, so many years later, he sometimes heard her voice, calling to him from the edge of an eternal sleep.   
  
On occasion, the words were soft, comforting-echoes of the brief endearments they had exchanged so long ago. At other times, he heard stark wails of grief, expressing the agony of a loneliness so terrible that any sane mind shrank from its mere contemplation. Both seemed to come from outside his consciousness, filtered through eons of separation. He could conceive of no rational explanation for the disturbance.  
  
Nor was it rational to posit that a single life form, by definition imperfect, could exceed an imagined ideal. Yet, in those rare moments when he allowed himself to contemplate the nature of beauty, he still saw her face.  
  
To mourn for one now five thousand years dead would seem futile. Therein lay the paradox. Despite the passage of years, and the destruction of an entire world, he knew that in a very real sense, she waited for him as if the distance between them were no more than topographical. Given all that he had since learned about time travel, perhaps the analogy was not entirely inappropriate.  
  
It was a paradox his mind had continued to sift through while the present time, his life, and his career continued to move forward. As his research progressed, he became certain that a time when circumstances, opportunity, and the state of his understanding would eventually converge.   
  
They did so the day he was offered command of the U.S.S. Copernicus, a small research vessel assigned to spend two years accumulating scientific data of whatever variety its specialist crew deemed advisable. The first officer he selected, Michaela Taylor, ranked among Starfleet's most respected authorities on wormholes and theories of spacial/temporal displacement.  
  
Fifteen hours before the Copernicus' maiden voyage commenced, Spock settled himself behind the desk in his quarters.   
  
"Computer. Access Captain's personal database. Retrieve classified file 'Sarpeidon.'"  
  
Within moments, the information he had spent years collecting and synthesizing flashed onscreen. Methodically, he began to input new data regarding the Copernicus' structural qualities, warp capabilities, and other relevant minutiae. When the figures were ready, he would submit them to Commander Taylor for a complete feasibility study.   
  
Compared to an eternity, two years would not seem long to wait.  
  
Since the first time she'd put on her uniform, Michaela Taylor had envisioned herself becoming a vital part of Starfleet's history, hopefully by making some significant contribution to scientific or maybe even diplomatic progress. Now, with three months left to serve on the Copernicus and the possibility of her own command afterward, it seemed she was about to take part in an experiment that, fail or succeed, would be recounted in Academy textbooks for years to come.   
  
It was exactly what she'd hoped for when she'd won her post as Spock's first officer. Suddenly, though, she found herself more perplexed than exhilarated.  
  
For one thing, she couldn't understand his choice of locale. Studying a lost world was an interesting idea, certainly, but she would have preferred some closer planet, or at least one with more clearly defined research opportunities. To her surprise, the Captain had listened patiently to her suggestions for alternate locations, then proceeded with his original coordinates. Since then, she had made no further efforts to dissuade him, nor had she questioned his insistence on calculations so specific it had taken her almost two years to complete her report.  
  
The only gratifying aspect of the situation was that he had used those same calculations, with only minor adjustments, to plot their slingshot trajectory into the past. At least, if they were successful in accomplishing his somewhat vague objectives, she would share in the credit. If they failed, however, she expected to shoulder most of the blame.   
  
Her anxiety increased when they reached what remained of the Beta Niobe system, complete with floating chunks of debris and a fading dwarf star that had once been the planet's mighty sun. Already the bridge crew was scurrying to prepare the Copernicus for the jump: shields and structural integrity checked and checked again, dilithium and reserve power stoked and brought online, sensitive instruments readied for massive and rapid data collection. Even the Captain, she noticed, seemed on edge, at least by Vulcan standards. Never before had she seen him demand that the ship's computer run the same diagnostics twice, let alone three times. Still, his face was almost unusually expressionless when he finally settled into the center seat and faced the main viewscreen.  
  
His voice, likewise, remained utterly neutral. Maybe he was trying to keep the rest of them calm, Taylor speculated. She couldn't shake her sense that she'd failed to pick up something important. "Commander Taylor, initiate jump sequence."  
  
"Initiating," she confirmed, fighting down an entire flock of butterflies that spread their magnificent wings in her gut. "Captain, I'd just like to state, for the record, that we might be in for a bumpy ride."  
  
"Acknowledged. Proceed."  
  
"Yes, sir." Taylor closed her eyes and punched in the code.  
  
...  
  
The first sensation they all felt as the Copernicus spiraled back through the centuries was a disorientation so profound that it felt like they were moving in slow motion-which, she reflected, wasn't entirely impossible. More nerve-wracking was the pressure on the shields, caused not only by their extreme velocity but by stray chunks of debris and lingering radiation left by the sun's explosion years before.  
  
Worst of all was the loss, about halfway through their plotted trajectory, of all sensory data. Control panels, froze, static filled all internal communications channels, and the image on the main screen contracted into a whirling miasma of blurry colors. While it flickered and converged, no one dared to speak. Even Spock began to look a little anxious as he gazed straight ahead, waiting for some sign that they had gained access to the past...or that they had forfeited all claim to their own futures.   
  
Then, slowly, the planet took shape in front of them. It seemed to emerge from a pale green mist, though Taylor suspected that might have been a trick of their frazzled sensors. Quickly she checked her instrument panel as it sputtered back to life.  
  
"Shields holding, sir," she reported. "Reserve power switching back to mainline. Systems returning to normal."  
  
Their helmsman's reaction was more to the point. "Captain, that planet! It just came up out of nowhere."  
  
"Inaccurate, Lieutenant. It is we who have emerged unexpectedly." Finally, as though he were still moving in slow motion, Spock lifted his hands from the button-studded arms of the command chair. "The planet is precisely where I expected it to be. That is Sarpeidon."  
  
Rising, he crossed the bridge and walked toward the screen with a distant expression. To Taylor, it looked almost as though he were absorbed in a strain of music only he could hear. Finally, a reaction from the Captain she could understand: awe.  
  
In fact, she was feeling it herself, now that she was sure they weren't doomed to drift through primeval space without life support.   
  
"The lost planet." Unlike the Captain, Taylor made no effort to hide her wonder. "Well done, Captain."  
  
"I cannot take full credit, Commander. The general calculations were, after all, yours."  
  
"I constructed a theoretical jump trajectory...but to find ourselves orbiting a planet that didn't exist only hours ago...well, it's a little overwhelming, to say the least."  
  
"It may be premature to claim total success. We shall require more specific data for that. Scan the planet's surface for humanoid life."  
  
"Yes, sir." She did so, then looked up frowning. Spock moved in close enough to peer over her shoulder at the rows of flashing scanners. "I have a reading of human life, Captain. It's most peculiar-a single entity." She made a few quick adjustments, which accomplished nothing. "It must be a sensor error."  
  
"It is not." With a brief grimace, Spock reached past her and hit the com button. "Transporter room, lock onto the life-force reading and prepare to beam me within a radius of eight to twelve meters."  
  
Taylor stared at him, flabbergasted, wondering if the time displacement had affected her aural processing functions. "You're beaming down? Shall I prepare an away team?"  
  
"Negative, Commander. I intend to visit the planet's surface alone. In the meantime, I grant you full authority to conduct whatever inquiries on the planet or its environs you deem essential."  
  
"This is highly irregular, Captain."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
When he moved past her, she jumped up and followed him to the lift doors. The rest of the bridge watched silent, tense. "Captain, a word?"  
  
"If you wish, you may accompany me to the transporter room. Lieutenant Darcy, take the bridge until Commander Taylor returns."  
  
They stepped into the lift together. The moment the doors closed, Spock seemed to forget that she was there. What was wrong with him? "Captain, I would advise against your visiting the planet's surface."  
  
"Your concern is commendable but unnecessary. I have already prepared thermal-resistant gear that should protect me from the elements."  
  
"But Captain, why risk it? We could easily record all the data we need from the bridge. Our sensors are more than capable of collecting precise readings, and our automated sample collectors should be able to handle any geological details." Again, her words seemed to have no effect on him.   
  
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" When he nodded, she took a deep breath and forged ahead. Weeks of frustration made her far more reckless than she'd ever had to be with their unusually formal Captain. She maintained no illusion that he considered her a friend, but until now he had always been straightforward with her. For reasons she couldn't begin to fathom, all of that had suddenly changed. "I get the sense that this isn't just a research exercise. Something more is going on here, isn't it?"  
  
He held up a hand. "You are correct, Commander. My current mission is not entirely scientific."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand."  
  
Spock turned to the voice-activated control panel. "Computer, reroute to Deck Five. You are correct, Commander Taylor. It is reasonable that I provide you with a detailed explanation. Please accompany me to a more private area. I will have the transporter room stand by."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
They didn't speak again until, in the privacy of his small conference room, he outlined the details of his self-designed task. He intended it to be the last act of his Starfleet career. In that respect, it made a peculiar kind of sense; in every other, it left her utterly astonished. What she'd taken as an unorthodox but highly structured research exercise was, in fact, a rescue mission...one in which their Captain had a deeply personal stake.  
  
"I wish you'd told me all this sooner," she said after she'd taken the time to digest all he'd told her-not the complete story, she suspected, but enough to let her read between the lines. "Do you really believe you can calculate our reversal to within days of your last visit?"  
  
Spock's eyes slid away from hers, but not before she caught a glimpse of what seemed to be raw pain, even fear, glistening in them. "I believe my methods were as sound as they could be, given the circumstances. When I returned to the present, I was able to preserve my tricorder readings, including records of solar position and temperature fluctuations. In addition, I performed radio-carbon dating on particles returned on my clothing at the time. Obviously, it would be impossible to summarize years of research in a few brief minutes. Yet I have computed these factors and matched over 2,700 points of comparison with our current bearings. Your calculations provided the framework for our attempt."  
  
"If I'd known that someone's life depended on my theories, though...." Taylor shook her head in wonder. "Maybe it's just as well I didn't. My own expectations might have paralyzed me. Anyway, I guess we'll soon find out."  
  
Spock got to his feet. "Indeed."  
  
Before they left the room, she offered her hand.   
  
"I wish you luck, Captain. It's not something scientists - or Vulcans - generally appeal to, but if there is such a thing, I hope it's with you today."  
  
"You are correct in that it is a concept foreign to my nature. Yet I appreciate the sentiment, Commander." His fingers closed around hers, hesitantly at first. To the best of her recollection, it was the first time they had ever touched. Never before had she realized how very little she knew about the man she'd served for almost two full years.   
  
But she no longer doubted that he had a heart.   
  
"All right. I've got a bridge to run and you need to get to the transporter room. We'll be waiting for you, Captain...both of you." 


	3. The End of Yesterday

3: THE END OF YESTERDAY  
  
He took shape inside a snowfall so thick that for a moment he seemed to be wrapped in an impenetrable cloak of white. Disoriented, he struggled for a foothold on a glistening plane of ice, at the same time reaching up to snap his thermal face shield into place.   
  
The specially treated barrier allowed him to see more clearly, especially when a vicious gust of wind swelled up around him. Though it almost knocked him over, it did momentarily disrupt the heavy snowfall. Rapidly he scanned the area. Unless Taylor was correct, and the sensors had been malfunctioning, he expected her to be nearly within arm's reach. He hadn't counted on materializing in a blizzard.  
  
Had she been caught off guard in it, too?  
  
He was about to signal the Copernicus for an updated scanner report when a dark flash of movement about twenty meters away caught his attention. Turning, he forced his way against the wind in pursuit of what he'd seen.   
  
Yes: through a blinding rush of snow and ice that pelted him mercilessly from all sides, he saw a fur-clad figured that could have been no one else. For reasons he could not fathom, she was moving not toward shelter but away from it, her huddled figure struggling up what appeared to be a steep, gale-swept incline. As he began to follow, she paused and stood, motionless, at the very edge, looking down as if mesmerized by the swirling patterns of the blowing snow.  
  
Then, almost imperceptibly, she began to lean forward.  
  
"Zarabeth, no!" His shout came so spontaneously that it startled even him for a moment. Whether she heard him through the visor, or over the screaming gusts of arctic wind, he had no way of knowing. For some unspecified reason, she hesitated just long enough for him to lunge across the distance that separated them and close both gloved hands around her wrists. Vaguely he remembered his First Officer's appeal to luck. Irrational though it had seemed at the time, it had proven ironically prescient.  
  
At the ravine's edge, the wind was so strong it almost sent them both spiraling to their deaths. Mustering every ounce of strength in his upper body, Spock threw himself backward, dragging her along with him. As she spun around in his grasp, she turned and looked directly into his visor. Her expression was stunned, uncomprehending. A moment later she had crumpled against him in a faint.  
  
Driven by pure adrenalin, he hoisted her off the frozen ground and forged a path through the waist-high drifts. He made his way to the cave by a combination of instinct and memory long ago cemented by dreams. As he descended with her into the cave, the welcome heat rose to surround them, rapidly making his visored hood and insulated jacket stifling. Hastily he moved through the familiar space and rested her atop her bed of furs, then pulled away his protective gear and covered her with it.  
  
Her limbs felt loose and heavy, but her face, though pale and wind-chapped, looked strangely peaceful in her unconscious state. Yet she was cold, so cold. Vigorously, in silence, he rubbed her hands, her arms. Sensations from long ago flooded his senses. It was as if he could still feel those same arms wrapped so tightly around him, their entwined bodies settled deep among those same sheltering hides.  
  
Slowly, he moved closer to her, his hands closing again on her wrists. A powerful physical sensation shivered up his arms and triggered an equally acute response in his central nervous system. For reasons he could not quite define, his chest constricted and his own skin felt flushed and dry.  
  
Suddenly, her fingers twitched and dug into his arm. Spock leaned over her so that his face hovered directly over hers.  
  
"Zarabeth," he whispered. "Zarabeth, I have returned."  
  
Her eyes snapped open an instant before her name left his lips. For a moment, he saw comprehension, relief dawn in them. Then, to his surprise, she seemed to shrink from him. Shaking her head, she freed her hands and stuck the air between them with both fists.  
  
"No! No, I won't!"  
  
"Zarabeth!" Startled, he recaptured her hands and attempted to subdue them. A dark possibility intruded on his mind. Had he returned too late, only to find her driven insane by her misery and grief?  
  
To his relief, her convulsive movements slowed, and the color slowly returned to her cheeks. Her expression, however, was one of savage resistance.   
  
"It's just another dream," she murmured, thrashing her head as if she were frantically trying to clear it. "They come to me every night. I won't give into them! I won't lose myself to a fantasy. I...can't." This time, he steadied her by gripping only one of her arms. His free hand rose to her face and wiped away the tears that now fell freely across his sleeve. "No. Zarabeth, no. It is not a dream. Look at me. Can you not see that I have changed? If you were dreaming, I would still be as I was then."  
  
She stopped struggling and looked at him - frowning, bewildered. "I remember now. I was trapped by the wind - I felt ill. Couldn't keep my balance. Or...or maybe I really did fall. Is that it? Have I passed to the other side? Were you waiting for me there?"  
  
Spock shook his head, relaxing his grip so that she sank back down against the rough-hewn pillows. "I am as alive as you are."  
  
At last, her gaze cleared and she stared down at the blue thermal jacket draped across her middle. She sat up so sharply that it slid to the floor. "Then it really is you! You've come back to me - as I always knew you would."   
  
Desperately she reached for him, brushing her fingers over his cheeks, his lips, his hair. The tears began again, along with sobs that shuddered against his chest while he held her in place. Next, she pulled him down beside her, nestling him among the primitive bedclothes, her lips devouring his. The fear he'd sensed in her had now given way to a pleasure so transcendent that he felt her emotion reverberate throughout his own body.   
  
Only one thing did not make sense to him. She was the one crying. Spock could therefore conceive of no logical reason why his own face should be wet.  
  
When they finally broke apart, he studied her for a long moment. No, she had not changed very much, if at all. There was a weariness about her, and perhaps she seemed a little paler than he remembered. But years had not passed in her world, as they had in his.  
  
"Zarabeth, there is something I must know. How long have I been away?"  
  
"Mmm...hard to say. Every day is the same here...I try to keep track, but I don't always succeed. Especially lately - I've been ill. But I think it has been a few weeks. Maybe a month."   
  
"I tried to spare you a long solitude. I worried that I might have failed."  
  
"I admit it's been more difficult than you - or I - ever would have imagined. Still, it doesn't matter now. For so long I saw you in my dreams. Always I'd awake and have to face the cold again. Now my aloneness is what seems like a dream." Her weary smile flickered, then faded as she began to think out loud. "You said before that you had changed. Does that mean things are different between us, too? Is there another, back in your own time?"  
  
He shook his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded husky and strange, even to himself. But the words came freely, expressing a truth he had never openly acknowledged before.   
  
"Zarabeth...in all the years I have been away, there has never been any other. And now, there will not be."  
  
"I believe you." She stroked his temple, and he noticed fresh tears glistening in her lashes. "Because I know that if some other traveler from the stars had stumbled upon me here and taken me back to the most populated planet in the entire universe, I never would have searched for anyone but you. And I would have waited as long as it took for you to find me again. And now you have."  
  
"It has taken me many years to discover a way not only to return to this time, but to bring you forward into mine. However, I believe I now have a sound method to remove you from your imprisonment. Your exile is over."  
  
"Are you saying that I can leave? With you?"  
  
"Yes. We shall not use the Atavachron, so whatever damage it was programmed to do cannot touch you. In my time, Sarpeidon itself, along with all that harmed you before, no longer exists. I also have a fully staffed medical unit awaiting our arrival on board my ship. You have nothing more to fear."   
  
He saw a flicker of anxiety crumple her brow, then disappear as she steeled herself and pushed the furs away. "I'm not afraid. Actually, I would rather risk death than try to live in this place another day. I know I could not survive losing you for a second time."  
  
Nodding, Spock retrieved his gear, then offered his hand and pulled her to her feet beside him. "In that case, let us go. Now. Is there anything you wish to take with you?"  
  
"Actually, there is one thing." She left him for a moment, then returned with a small carved box, clearly not from this time. She had brought it with her, he surmised, a hypothesis she quickly confirmed. "Some remnants from my own time. From the family I lost."  
  
"Very well." Spock donned his thermal jacket and touched the communicator affixed to its collar. "Commander Taylor. Two to beam directly to sickbay. Perform diagnostic bioscan en route."  
  
"Sickbay? Is anything wrong, sir?"  
  
"Negative. A precautionary measure, at best."  
  
"Coordinates locked in. We're looking forward to your return, Captain."  
  
"Acknowledged. Spock out."  
  
Standing a few feet apart, they watched one other dissolve.  
  
Several hours later, with the Copernicus cruising safely through its own time at a modest impulse speed, Spock returned to Deck Seven, where all 75 crewmembers, including himself, resided. Taylor, perceptive enough to be both discreet and pragmatic, had installed Zarabeth in the guest quarters closest to his own.  
  
He touched the buzzer to request entry, but got no response. Surmising that she did not know how to voice-activate the door, he punched in the captain's override command and stepped inside.  
  
She stood motionless at the rear of the cabin, staring at a viewscreen filled with dazzling blue-white stars. Though her back was to him, he saw that she was wearing one of Taylor's off-duty outfits, a light green tunic with sleeves that tapered into long, narrow points. The garment fit her tolerably well; Spock found himself momentarily jarred by the sight of her so fully integrated into his own time, his own world, when only hours ago she had been part of a history, and a planet, long vanished.  
  
Somehow, though, everything seemed as it should be.   
  
"I came to inform you that the ship has returned to the present. I trust that the journey had no ill effects on you?"  
  
"None-and Michaela Taylor told me where we were." She nodded without taking her eyes from the screen. Belatedly he realized that her unbroken gaze was motivated not by awe, but sorrow. "I've just been looking at what remained of my world. Not much left, is there?"  
  
"When the sun went nova, the planets nearest it were also destroyed, leaving the debris you see now. It is the expected course of such events."  
  
"Maybe, but to me it's a little overwhelming. To think that every place, every person I knew is gone, and that I'm both the first and last of my kind. That can't be a very common experience, even in this place."  
  
"You are correct. The loss of a populated world does not occur very often, at least in known regions."  
  
"It wasn't a perfect world, but it was mine. I suppose I'll always mourn for it...for everything I knew."  
  
"Understandable. Yet it also brought you much pain."  
  
"In the end, yes. Hard as it might be to believe now, I was happy there once. It seems so long ago." Finally, she looked up at him with a rueful smile. "And I suppose it was. Spock, can I show you something?"  
  
"Of course." He waited while she retrieved the carved box she'd carried on board and placed it in the middle of the bed. Her hand shook a little as she raised the heavy lid.   
  
"I've never shown these to anyone before," she told him. "I didn't even look at them myself very often. The pain was too great."  
  
One by one, she handed him the objects. First came a few pieces of jewelry, including a pendant fashioned around a remarkable stone. Deep within its center, a tiny flame seemed to shimmer and twist.  
  
"This was my mother's," she explained. "She'd never been strong-I take after my father more in that respect. She died before the worst happened , almost as through she knew what was coming. In some ways she was luckier than the rest of my family, though I couldn't know that at the time. My father was quite different." From the cloth lining of the box she withdrew an oblong metal ornament with a vaguely military design. "This was given to my father for bravery, when he served our first Prefect. When Zor Khan took the state by force, I had to hide this-possessing any remnants of the old regime was punishable by a long imprisonment. It was still hidden when they sent me away, but in a sense I was punished for it anyway." "And your father was sent away, as you were?"  
  
"I don't know. He disappeared, along with his two brothers. Part of me has always hoped that they found a way to exist in the past...that my father was able to make another life for himself, but I can't truly believe it."  
  
"It is not impossible. You are proof of that."  
  
"Yes. I suppose I am." She placed the medal back into the box; no need to conceal it now. The last item she drew out, a sphere with a series of odd protrusions and even stranger markings, was totally unrecognizable to Spock at first. As she turned it around in her hand, he realized it must be some sort of childhood toy.  
  
"My brother may have fared the worst of us all. It wasn't in his nature to hide his anger, his outrage. He paid dearly for that. Zor Khan sent him through the Atavachron first. But Argus wouldn't stay. He didn't believe that anything would happen to him if he came through again. So he did. He came back through to find me." Dropping the keepsake back in the box, she scrubbed away the tears that coursed freely down her cheeks. Spock gazed down at his hands, moved by the force of her anguish.  
  
"He died, then."  
  
"The worst of it is that I don't even know. Zor Khan forced the rest of us to watch what would happen if we dared to attempt a similar escape. We saw him lying there for hours, writhing in pain, begging for someone to put an end to his suffering. It was almost as if he were aging hundreds of years in hours. And there was nothing any of us could do. Eventually Zor Khan tossed him back through and left him there. I have no idea if he lived or died in some other time."   
  
"Where was he sent?"  
  
"I don't know. No one was permitted to see the environment Zor Khan chose for him, or for any of us. For a long time after I went to the cave, I searched for him, thinking perhaps he had ended up in my time." A sudden idea struck her. "Spock, is there any way to find out? Perhaps in the future, when you visited, there were records."  
  
He shook his head. "While we were on the planet's surface, the Enterprise downloaded a good deal of data from your Library's databanks. In the years since, I have searched the records many times, but I found no reference to you, or to your family."  
  
"I would have expected as much. The Tyrant was very selective in what he allowed to be recorded."  
  
"There is, however, a record of Zor Khan's death. You may find it interesting that his body was discovered in the Library, little more than two years into his reign. The identity of his assassin was never determined. Apparently, there was little inquiry into the precise circumstances of the murder."  
  
"So we were avenged after all. And my civilization did survive Zor Khan. For so long, I wondered if he would destroy everything we'd worked for."  
  
"It not only survived, it flourished. With the end of Zor Khan's dictatorship, your government finally adopted a more democratic system. Scientific progress accelerated and the population achieved greater personal and economic stability than ever before. Eventually, even the Atavachron was used for ethical purposes. Just before the destruction of your planet, it saved millions of lives. Zarabeth, it is only a theory, but I believe that what befell you and your family provided the impetus for change on a larger scale than anyone could have imagined. Your sacrifice was not forgotten."  
  
She closed the box and sat motionless on the edge of the bed for a long time. "I only wish I could forget."  
  
"Perhaps one day, you will find resolution. I understand it is the normal psychological process for emotional beings."  
  
"I'm sure you're right." Eventually, she rose and put the box away in a drawer, tucking it in beside the new clothing Taylor had provided. "I'll never forget them," she said finally. "But now, thanks to you, I have my life back. And I do intend to make the most of it."  
  
"Your optimism is well-founded. You are intelligent, capable, and according to my medical staff, in excellent physical condition in spite of the deprivations you have suffered. A myriad of opportunities will exist once you have acclimated yourself to this environment. My crew and I shall, of course, assist you in any way we are able."  
  
"Do you mean there's a limit to how long I can stay here?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking. The Copernicus is scheduled to terminate its mission in approximately two months. Everyone on board will be reassigned."  
  
"And then? What will you do?"  
  
"Although my work on the Copernicus has been scientifically rewarding, I shall not seek command of another vessel. At this juncture, it seems likely that I will be offered a post as governor of a space station or a small Federation outpost. However, for a variety of reasons, the diplomatic corps currently seems the most reasonable option."   
  
"I'm sure you'd make a fine ambassador." She scanned his face with a vaguely troubled expression. "And what will I do?"  
  
"At the moment, I have taken care of some small matters of a practical nature. I have applied on your behalf for displaced persons status, which the Federation automatically offers to survivors of destroyed worlds. I must forewarn you that it may take some time for even the preliminary steps to be completed. Your circumstances, after all, are somewhat unusual."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"Of course, there is one way to expedite the process. If you were to affiliate yourself with someone who already enjoys accredited Federation standing, certain steps may be omitted."  
  
"Affiliate myself? Do you mean marry?"  
  
"That is one possibility, though not the only one."  
  
"Oh." She bit back a smile of sudden understanding. "That does present a slight problem. Where would I find someone to marry on such short notice? After all, I'm a total stranger here."  
  
"That is not precisely true. You have already interacted with several members of my crew, all of whom appear to have developed a decidedly positive attitude toward you."   
  
"And I suppose that as captain of the ship, you could always order someone to fill that role."  
  
"Certainly. It could be accomplished almost at once."  
  
"I suppose it's the only practical option, then. Do you think I'll like this brave volunteer?"   
  
"Affection would not be a requisite condition so far as the legalities are concerned."  
  
"Still, it would matter to me."  
  
He paused to tug down the front of his uniform shirt. "I fully expect that the candidate I have selected would be pleasing to you."  
  
"The only way to know for sure would be to let him ask me." She crossed the room and gingerly slipped her hands around his. "Will you ask me, Spock?"  
  
"You have already indicated that you are in agreement with my recommendation." He cleared his throat. "I see little advantage in asking a question to which the answer is a certain affirmative."  
  
"Are you sure about that? After all, you've pointed out several times that I am an emotional being. Wouldn't that make me unpredictable by definition?"  
  
"Very well, then. Zarabeth...I have not brought you from one form of confinement only to deliver you into another. There is no reason you must remain here if you would prefer to take another direction. However, if it would please you, I believe it is my duty to invite you to become my wife."  
  
"You see? It was necessary for you to ask the question. Because I'm afraid I couldn't possibly accept."  
  
It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to smile at his look of horror. "I am afraid I do not comprehend."  
  
"It's very simple. I couldn't agree if you've asked me only to fulfill an obligation. If it were something you had wished for-as I have-then of course there is no offer I would ever agree to more readily."  
  
Slowly, his fingers tightened around hers. His face took on a dark, greenish cast that she recognized as a blush. "It is my wish," he said quietly. "It has been since the day we parted. However, you must realize that a life with me may not be as easy as you imagine. I am not like other men...either from my world, or yours."  
  
"Then be the man you are...the only man I've ever wanted." Stepping closer to him, she lifted his hand and placed it against her middle. "And there is something you must know, too. Your doctors did find one abnormality on the bioscan. They agreed that I should tell you myself."  
  
The moment his palm made contact with her, he understood why the connection between them had remained so intense. The joining of their bodies, as well as their minds, so long ago had produced a bond strong enough to outlast five millennia.   
  
"If it is a son, I had hoped you might agree to call him Jarrod. That way, at least some aspect of my family will live on, even if they'll never know it." She frowned, trying to interpret his stunned expression. "Are you displeased?"  
  
His hand tensed, moved, and finally relaxed against the spot where their child lay, slowly developing. "I am not displeased. Only...I had not expected it to be possible."  
  
"Apparently you were wrong."  
  
"No doubt there are many areas of knowledge about which we must both undertake further research." His lips curved, offering the hint of a smile.   
  
"I'm looking forward to it. And yes, I would be proud to marry you-but there is one condition; that you stay with me now. I don't want to sleep alone another night, ever. I'm afraid that when I wake again, all this will have disappeared, and I'll be back where I was - cold, forgotten, dying. And so far from you."   
  
"That will not happen." He drew her closer, his movements as cautious as if she were made of glass. "Nevertheless, I shall remain with you. Tonight, tomorrow. Always."  
  
"I've dreamed of those words so many times. You probably don't dream in the same way I do."  
  
His hands smoothed the sides of her face. "In this case," he told her, "I have."  
  
Note: The story continues on fanfiction.net: Part 2:  
  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1467249  
  
Part 3:  
  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1490541 


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